A fairy Tale for the Demon Lord
by Unlimited Blade Works
Summary: In which the Villain kills the Hero, saves the Princess. And loses everything in the process. Oneshot.


**A Fairy Tale for the Demon Lord**

**Author's Note**

So this idea in some form or another has been kicking around for years. This particular version has been half finished since 2016. So yeah thought I would put it up. It is a One Shot. But I gave myself room to expand on it if I ever feel the need to do so.

I guess you could say that the impetus for this story comes from a comic of the same name as this stories title. A story in which the main character goes from The Hero to The Villain due to his obsession.

Taking from that this is NOT a Love Story this is a story about how a persons Obsession with something and a little magical help drives them right off the deep end.

Anyway I like to think the ending is a little uplifting though more on that in the note at the end of the chapter.

Enjoy.

**Story Start**

_Anger is an acid that can do more damage to the vessel in which it is stored than anything upon which it is poured._

_\- Mark Twain_

The shriek of metal upon metal. The grinding sound of steel upon steel. His breath was coming in gasps each sharp and laboured as though in great pain. Crimson eyes flicked down and took in the injuries he had sustained in the last battle.

The fact that half his torso was missing and his armour was melted and torn was certainly a contributing factor in his struggle to breathe. With every step his armoured form let out the sound of metal upon metal. Partially ruined from both massive physical impact and some even melted by immensely powerful flame. An achievement in and of itself as most fire would never so much as bother part of him that noticed this was small, fragile, and almost completely gone. Barely holding on by tips of its fingers.

The Dragon had been a worthy kill.

But just like all the others it fell to him.

Sooner or later all those who stood before him fell.

It's life had been forfeit from the moment that it was forced to stand between him and Her. The very second he had been able to ascertain that she was not in the surrounding village of Hogsmead he been free to fight without restraint.

Once he chose to fight in earnest the beast fell to Laveteinn like everything else. The sword upon his back was a cold comfort. An old friend in a world gone mad. At his most lucid he knew that it was not the world that had gone mad. But every time he understood the revelation was torn away from him without exception. As the madness returned to claim him once more.

The Knight's breaths came easier as he walked further towards the castle in the distance. The large wound in his torso closing itself with unnatural speed and his armour flowing together like water. He stalked towards Hogwarts the one place left in this country that they could have been holding Her. He could feel her even from this distance. He could always feel where she was. Being in the castle simply meant that everything that chose to stand between him and the castle had to die.

The head of the dragon's handler was held steady in his left hand. His name...the man's name had been important but the Knight could no longer remember it. But he knew the man from the time before. In a house he didn't know surrounded by people he couldn't recognise. He felt something for that place. Like a warmth that was not wrath flood up from the ends of his toes to the top of his head. But the Knight no longer knew what it was, and even looking at the head the memory of that emotion was no more than a distant echo. A reflection of reality upon the water.

The moon...why did looking at the head make him think of the moon?

The Knight shook his head to clear it. The madness. The fever pitch of hate rolling over him once more. The head didn't matter. The life of the man he took didn't matter. She. She was all that mattered. She was all that ever could matter. All he was. All he could be. All he would be. He had thrown them all away.

All for Her.

All to save Her.

The woman who's name the Knight couldn't even remember.

The Knight took another step forward. Crimson eyes surveying the ancient stronghold through his visor as he approached. The wards could be a problem. Certainly it was possible they could be overpowered with Laveteinn, but that would leave him weakened for the follow up attack. Something that he could ill afford.

The things inside held Artificial Seeds.

A pale imitation of the real thing. Of the things like Laveteinn that lay upon his back. But even degraded copies of such weapons were dangerous. The man who reminded him of the moon, and the woman with pink hair that had fought by his side proved that. Even as she sent wave after wave of power at him before bleeding out into the headless corpse's arms.

The two had landed several powerful blows before he had overcome them. Remembering their deaths sent a pang through the scraps of sanity left in the Knight's mind. He...He couldn't even remember the woman's face, and even the man who reminded him of the moon. His features slipped through his mind like water unless he looked straight at the head. The woman who had fought by his side was already completely lost to him.

Another step and then another. His flesh knitted itself together completely and his armour reformed as his trek to the castle continued. The forest around the Knight was silent as though the world itself was holding its breath.

Artificial Seeds the creations made possible by Her Singasteinn. The abominations made his blood boil further. Wrath wrapping around his heart like an old friend. The creation of Artificial Seeds did terrible harm to the one using Singasteinn.

It did horrific things to Her.

To create them She would need to splinter Her Singasteinn. Doing harm that made the Crucitatus Curse pale in comparison. Singasteinn was unique as far as the Knight could remember. Seeds were power raw and pure. Given form and direction by will alone.

Most Seeds simply gave one a few abilities that were linked together vaguely. Such as his own. But Singasteinn was different. Not only did it give one a fully mastery of Runic Magic but also allowed them to create copies of any Seed that any of its users had seen before. Granted they were far less powerful than the genuine article. As both the man of the moon and the woman with pink hair could attest were they still among the living. But they were powerful all the same.

But the pain required to do so was unimaginable. Fracturing the mind even as it ravaged and weakened the body. Were it not for the fact that Her Seed would have granted her an enhanced healing factor and durability she likely would have been long dead. Even then her mind was more than likely only hanging on by a thread.

Much like his own was the last scraps of the Knight's sanity noted as they walked ever onward.

The endless march towards Her.

The snake like man had taken great pleasure in taunting the Knight about Her fate at his hands. He spoke at length always confident in his victory. Both the Scraps and the wreathing madness took great pleasure in his death.

Burned both body and soul by Laveteinn's flames.

The Knight continued to stride forward as the last noises from his armour finally ceased. The once pristine silver plate burnished with gold and a blue cloak had turned black from ash and soot. Once he had looked as though a knight in truth. Now his armour was blackened and cracked. The edges glowing red ominously. His cloak had long ago been reduced to charred cloth that barely clung to his back. Embers still clinging to the once pristine fabric.

The smallest scraps of sanity noted that such as state was likely a reflection of his Seed. His insanity made manifest a physical change that told the world the truth about his mind. Cracked, torn, pushed to breaking point, and perilously close to losing the final scraps of what made him human. Even if those final pieces of sanity had not held any real power in quite some time.

Lord of Cinder.

An appropriate title given to him by those who controlled this part of the world. Those steeped in magic going back hundreds of years.

A name to know the Knight by.

A name to fear the Knight by.

Not that it mattered any longer. When they had come for him the Knight had killed.

And killed.

And killed.

And killed.

And killed.

And killed.

And killed.

And killed.

And killed.

Until finally they had stopped coming. Once they had been burned to the last man, woman, and child. In that place under the old city. None had attacked him again even as he began the long walk to the castle now before him.

Those who held power had been foolish enough to stand between him and Her.

Thus they all had to die.

It was simple really.

**XXX**

"Wake up sleepy head." The words were almost melodic. As if they came from one who more sang them than spoke them. A groan was the only response as he rolled over attempting to get back to sleep. A sigh greeted his actions. Quite clearly telling any who cared to listen that this had happened more than once. Not that anyone could listen.

Students got private rooms at Beauxbatons.

"I will conjurer ice water if you keep this up." It was not an idle threat. She had done just that in the past when he refused to get out of bed.

"I'm up. I'm up." Harry groaned out forcing himself into a sitting position as he acknowledged the ultimatum for what it was. He had taken to wearing a shirt to bed instead of just boxers ever since this had happened for the first time in their first year. "What is it Fleur?" The green eyed Wizard inquired rubbing a hand through his hair with a yawn.

"It's almost one in the afternoon and you're still in bed." His fellow student informed him with an unimpressed look.

"It's Sunday!" Harry protested with an almost outraged look on his face.

"And you're wasting it." Fleur replied promptly as Harry flopped back onto his bed. Though he did not dare to close his eyes as that threat of freezing water was still very real.

They had been together for years. Though originally it had not exactly been by choice. The Englishman who was sent to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts was considered an oddity at best and an outcast at worst. There had always been, and likely would always be. Rumours swirling around about how his parents didn't want him and preferred his younger brother which was why Jack was sent to Hogwarts and he was not.

It was all bullshite of course, but the rumour persisted and likely always would.

He had actually had this long talk with his mum and dad a year before he had been enrolled at Beauxbatons. After Jack had vanquished Voldemort they had been under a lot of pressure from both the media and the Government to constantly be in the public eye. Something about 'keeping up morale' while they mopped up the last of the Death Eaters. After that they were 'Celebrities' and thus still always in the public eye.

Harry was not a fan.

His mum had actually raised the point that Beauxbatons may actually be easier for him that Hogwarts as they would be less enamored with the myth of The-Boy-Who-Lived. Harry; who longed for the days he was 'just Harry' rather than the brother of The-Boy-Who-Lived at all times. Had taken his parents up on their offer to apply to Beauxbatons almost immediately.

Fleur meanwhile was a Veela. Despite how some Ministries chose to classify it there were no male Veela. As such any female children born of a union between a Veela and a man was a Veela. As for how this related to their originally unwanted cohabitation. Well while Pure Blood Ideology was far less prominent in France than England. Thanks to a little thing called the French Revolution. While many Pure-Blood Families did indeed loose their heads it wasn't all of them.

So while there was less emphasis on Pure Blood ideology in France it did still exist, and it had certainly been bolstered by the rise of Voldemort. As such Fleur was something of an outcast among those who still embraced it. While many of the boys while initially drawn to her were more than a little wary after she 'accidentally' made more than a few of them look like fools when they fell under her allure.

Harry still had fond memories of one who tried to impress her with his 'fortitude' by drinking a whole bottle of cooking oil, and not a small one either. He was still impressed with the effort that must have taken. Though he was never sure how many 'accidents' with her allure were actually accidents.

You could say what you liked about Fleur she had something of a vicious sense of humour when the mood took her. Something that could be said for all Veela if what he'd been told was true.

Then their were the girls who for the most part were more than a little wary themselves or jealous. Which meant that the person the two of them had spent the most time with initially had been each other. That said they also shared a few interests. Which was why they became, and remained, close friends even after the others began adjusting to them and inviting them hang around other people.

"At any rate I am going into the village today. You shall be accompanying me." Fleur stated with confidence.

"Can't you get Antoine to go?" Harry whined as he rolled over. "He is your boyfriend after all." The Englishman groused. If Antoine wanted to go out with Fleur then he could damned well head into Vanica and carry her things. God knew he'd done it often enough to deserve some time off. Adjusted to her allure he may be, immune? Not just yet.

Harry blamed puberty.

"We broke up yesterday." The Veela responded her voice light as she walked to the door. Harry couldn't help but sigh. That was the fourth one this year. Her record was six in a year and it looked like it would be broken before they even left for Hogwarts and the Triwizard tournament. Three months after classes started.

"Why?" Asked the long suffering Englishman.

"Because he attempted to tell me that I shouldn't spend as much time with you. When I had a perfectly good boyfriend. I told him that if he thought that he could tell how long I could spend with my oldest friend then he was gravely mistaken. When he attempted to press the issue I dumped him." Fleur responded simply.

Great.

Now he felt like a right arsehole.

"Give me half an hour to get ready and have a shower." Harry replied sitting up once more to catch the smile on Fleur's face as she turned back towards the door.

"Very well I shall expect you at the gates in half an hour." His old friend replied slipping out of the room. It did not take Harry long to get ready. Thankfully the showers were rather close to his room. While the rooms themselves had no set order to them. A boy was just as likely to be next to another boy as he was a girl. The showers were divided quite clearly into men's and women's. Decency was both expected and enforced in communal areas.

Showering quickly Harry dressed in his usual fare. Jeans, sneakers and a long sleeved blue shirt. Thankfully Beauxbatons did not enforce dress code on the weekends. Fleur had once called him fashion challenged. She certainly wasn't wrong. That said Harry also was not willing to put in the time and effort required to become Fleur Delacour Certified in fashion. He greatly respected his oldest friend, but he wasn't crazy.

Give it a few more years and he just might be if the last six were any indication. Harry slipped down the stairs to the Entrance Hall waving to the students he recognised. Most would either be finishing up lunch about now or studding for the N.E.W.T's that near the end of the year. He'd grab something in Vanica. There was a nice bakery after all. And it had some of the best Eclairs he had ever tasted. After living in France for most of the last six years he'd gotten to taste quite a few and this place was quality. Harry was also willing to bet that Fleur would likely get one as well. Maybe he could convince her to go there first? Shouldn't be too hard. Oh she'd say something about watching her waist, but he was willing to bet Nibs to rubies that she'd buy one.

**XXX**

Breathing became easier as the Knight's body finished regenerating. Each step was purposeful he could feel her Her. She was ahead. He had to keep going. Someone's head had fallen from his hands. They reminded him of something. He could no longer think of what.

The sky?

Was it something about the sky?

Just as soon as the thoughts formed they vanished as the Scaps of sanity were buried once more under an ocean of Wrath.

It mattered not. The man and someone else he couldn't remember. Had stood before him and so they had to die. Anything and everything that stood between him and Her had to die. It was all that mattered it was all that could ever be allowed to matter.

It was almost nonchalant as his gauntlet came up and snatched the bolt from the air before it could enter his visor. It was a fine shot a distant part of his mind dedicated purely to battle noted. Right before he crushed it to dust. Uncaring of the powerful offensive and defensive magic that had been placed upon it.

A man strode forth from the forest. He was large. His height towering over the Knight by a good five feet even in his armour. His width was easily six or seven times that of the Knight. It seemed that this man held the edge in both reach and weight. Still the Dragon had that on its side as well.

It fell all the same.

The Man walked forward his large bushy beard and eyes like beetles stirring something that the Knight couldn't quite place. An emotion he no longer knew. Red eyes looked on impassively until the Man stood before him on the trail barring his way.

"Please Harry stop." The words were said with an emotion he couldn't understand. Still if the Man stood in his way then there was but one choice. Laveteinn was drawn. The blade no man could wield. The sword of a Fire Giant. Six and a half feet long and as thick as kitchen table it was more like a heap of raw iron. Despite this great weight the Knight held it aloft in a single hand even as flames as ruby red as blood began to lick the edges.

The sound of skittering came from all around them. Things with eight legs and eyes with fangs as long as a man's arm swarmed from the depths of the forest to aid the man who stood before him. The Knight roared a sound that echoed out from the darkest parts of man and charged. His strides eating the distance between them.

The man chose to stand before him and bar his way to Her.

Thus he had to die.

It was simple really.

Still the Scraps of sanity couldn't help but wonder.

Who was Harry?

**XXX**

"You're a little early." Fleur's greeting was expected as he approached.

"I can go back inside if you'd like." Harry replied with a small smirk.

"I think not Mr. Potter." The Veela responded with a smirk of her own. "You may now have the honour of escorting me." She stated in a faux haughty tone.

"At your pleasure milady." Harry replied with a poor imitation of a bow and cultured accent. Standing once more they began their trek down to the nearby village. It was a nice walk through the woods to reach Vancia, and unlike Hogwarts they did not have to worry about being attacked by anything. Which was always nice.

"Hey wait!" The words were yelled from behind them causing the two to turn. The young woman running down the hill towards them was their age and well known to both. Serah was someone who just couldn't keep her curiosity to herself. It wasn't hyperbole to say that she was the reason that the shell that had sprouted up around the two of them in their first year had broken so quickly. Serah's curiosity was more like a force of nature than just about anything else Harry had ever seen.

"I'm heading in too!" The pink haired girl stated as she came to a stop next to them. Unlike Tonks, Serah was not a Metamorphmagus. She simply chose to change her hair colour using magic. On weekdays it was her natural brown but on the weekends where the dress code was relaxed it was often different. The most interesting one by far had been snot green. Everyone agreed that had been a bad choice.

"And I'd like some company for the walk if you wouldn't mind, or am I interrupting your date?" She asked with a very clearly false smile on her face.

"Its not a date." Harry groaned out placing a hand on his head. He made that correction so often there was a big part of him that wanted to find a way to circumvent the Ward around Beauxbatons that made electronics go haywire just so he could record himself saying it. Then hand it out to everyone who had ever asked him that damned question. Hopefully that may finally get the message through.

Probably not.

But a man could hope.

"Where are you heading first." The bundle of energy and pink asked eyes glinting.

"And a good morning to you too Serah." Fleur said with faux exasperation. The smile she shot the other woman ruined any chance her tone would be taken seriously.

"Good morning!" Serah replied with a wave. "Now where are you going?" The pink haired sixth year asked clearly not dissuaded from her original question in the slightest.

"Bakery." Two voices answered at the same time. They shared a smile before turning back to their new traveling companion.

"Ooh! I heard they're trying out some new sweets this week too." Serah said animatedly as they walked further from the school grounds. Harry felt an odd buzz about the back of his head as a strange feeling dropped into his gut.

Something wasn't right.

"Oh! What kind!?" Fleur asked eagerly. Her sweet tooth may well have been even worse than Harry's own.

"Waffles!" Serah said proudly a smile on her face.

"Serah waffles are hardly new." Harry replied ignoring his feelings for a moment. As the castle disappeared blocked by the canopy overhead.

"Yes but-" Serah Moreau got no further. To Harry the world seemed to slow down. Out of the underbrush a orange spell raced forward and impacted the girls back. Serah's eyes widened in pain before her upper body simply disappeared. Exploding outwards from the force of the curse.

Confringo a distant part of Harry's mind noted even as he was covered in blood and viscera. As his friend dropped to the ground clearly dead. Fleur was doing no better staring open mouthed at the spot their friend had once been. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind a voice that sounded a lot like James Potter was screaming at him.

Yelling for him to take cover, Apparite out, to do anything but stand there and wait to die. Unfortunately by the time Harry registered the voice in the back of his head it was already far too late to do anything about it.

A blue light rushed out of the underbrush and struck Fleur in the back. His oldest friend collapsed like a sack of potatoes. Stupify Harry noted distantly. Pain like nothing he had ever felt before flared through his left side. Green eyes flicked down. Half of his torso was missing.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

Harry could barely even feel the ground hit his face as the strength fled from his body and it collapsed. Green eyes were opened wide in pain as his breaths came in short bursts. He was going into shock of that he was sure. Harry could taste copper at the back of his throat as blood bubbled up.

Figures strode out of the forest around them. Dressed all in black robes that covered them completely. A silver mask upon their faces. Death Eaters. Voldemort's 'chosen people'. A nightmare that was supposed to have died fifteen years ago.

"Take her." The one on Harry's left stated nudging Fleur with his foot.

"The others?" The one behind him asked. Most likely the one who had cursed him.

"Kill him." The one that had killed Serah stated voice blunt. "The Master only needs the Half Breed." He continued callously foot kicking what remained of Serah's body. Shock began to ware off as rage bubbled up from beneath the surface, and slid along his bones like liquid fire. Harry's breaths came faster and faster as the Death Eater closest to Fleur picked her up and vanished.

Portkey. The dispassionate side of his mind noted.

It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

Nothing at all. 

Except for killing the two that remained.

That was all.

It was simple.

They had taken Fleur and killed Serah. Thus they had to die. They had to die and everyone that was with them had to die.

It was simple.

The liquid flame that had crept around his bones flared outwards suffusing every atom of his body. Unlike before it was a good pain. With an almost inhuman roar Harry staggered back to his feet making the two Death Eaters stop as they were about to vanish what was left of Serah's corpse. She did not deserve that. None of them deserved what happened, and for that they would die.

Wrath curled around his heart like an old friend. The two Death Eaters raised their wands and Harry moved. It was like the entire world was playing out before him in slow motion. In the time it took the first Death Eater to raise his wand to chest height. Harry crossed the distance and slammed his fist into his stomach knocking the air out of the man and breaking several of his ribs. The Death Eaters wand went flying out his hand.

Harry spun on the balls of his feet allowing the second Death Eaters spell to go harmlessly over his shoulder. His right arm swung up in a vicious arc and the words came to his lips almost unbidden. As if remembered rather than truly thought.

"Charge Sword." It wasn't a spell. Not in the traditional sense. Rather it was a command. One that the power inside of him leapt at the chance to obey. Red light flashed and his right hand gripped a blade as black as midnight and as long as Harry's leg. And his Green eyes burned gold in a flash of power. In a single merciless motion the blade carved through the Death Eaters robes like a hot knife through butter easily cutting the man in half.

Something Harry took a grim satisfaction in. Even as another part of him wanted to vomit.

He spun the other Death Eater was still alive and grasping a small necklace. Likely a Portkey. Maybe to the same place they took Fleur. Harry charged his blade leading the way. Wrath burning in his breast. As the Portkey activated Harry's black blade bit deep into the man's chest and through his heart. Whisking both Harry Potter and the Death Eater away from Beauxbatons.

**XXX**

The blackened knight strode onward. His armour of midnight stained with the viscera of his latest opponents. The man and his spiders had been worthy opponents but like all the others they had fallen before his onslaught. The spiders while numerous had been unable to pierce his armour or stand the heat of his flames for long. While the man himself had done better in both regards however he had eventually fallen. His head was now gripped the Knight's left hand. Something to help him get past the wards of the Castle who's name he no longer knew.

Not that the fight had been easy. The largest enemy had been armed with a pair of Artificial Seeds. Something that made endless flames of Wrath inside of the blackened knight surge. For with every abomination that he found it meant that She had been hurt once more. On the good days he could remember her face. But never her name. Nor the sound of her voice, or the way she smelled, or moved.

It was all gone.

Reduced to less than ash by the flames of Wrath inside of him. All in exchange for the power to free Her. All the knight knew was that She was important, and that he had to help Her no matter what, or who. Stood in his way. The large man had made that mistake. Even wielding Jarngreipr and Mjolnir. Mere fakes though they were. Had not been enough to stop him.

It would never be enough to stop him.

Though the blackened knight would give credit where it was due. When he had realised that the battle was lost the large man still stood and faced him proudly. He neither begged nor wept at as the end came for him. Instead fighting on with seemingly greater determination to stop the knight before him. Though at that point the end was all but guaranteed.

He had also commanded the respect and loyalty of many beasts. A three headed dog. The things with eight legs, and a large creature that appeared to be some strange variety of conjoined thing with two tails instead of pincers that had propelled itself towards him with almost fire like blasts from its posterior. Not that they had helped him to triumph in the end. They lay broken and dying with their master.

They had come between him and Her.

Thus they had to die.

It was simple.

With each step his armour shrieked as he felt his skin begin to heal. A fabrication it may have been but Mjolnir was a force to be reckoned with none the less. Another step forward took him closer to Hogwarts main gate. He couldn't even see the village where not even an hour ago he had faced the man and woman who's names he no longer knew. The villages name had likewise vanished from his memory.

The last scraps of sanity noted that they were falling apart. They had pushed too hard for to long and now the body was failing them. And their mind for so long already broken and fractured was finally giving out under the strain.

The madness naturally cared not. She was close and that was all that mattered. It was all that could ever matter. Another step brought him to the main gate and the head was raised. The Wards around Hogwarts recognised it and the gates began to open with a hideous shriek announcing the blackened knight.

Some small part of his mind noted that it was probably an early warning system set up if the Wards recognised someone but felt something was wrong.

It did not matter.

The blackened knight strode forward across the grounds of the mighty fortress of magic even as the great doors opened with a groan. Four figures strode out each looking grim. The first was a tall man with long black hair. The knight could barely remember him from a house he no longer knew, and a time he could not recall.

The next two were far more vivid in his half remembered dreams. A woman with long red hair tied in a tight pony tail. Her face was kind and her eyes bright a smile upon her face. The man with messy black hair and an infectious grin. Both meant something. Something stirred in the back of his mind they were...

They were...

And as quickly as it had appeared the moment of sanity departed once more leaving the knight in the grip of madness. The two who had stirred that moment of clarity however brief looked nothing like those half remembered dreams. Their faces were set in a determined grimaces that mirrored one another. But their was a sadness in their eyes that was unmistakable.

The final figure stood taller than the rest. Though not by much and he certainly did not have the height of the knight that stood before him. His hair was a dark greasy black, and straight rather than wild like the man beside him. Unlike the others this one stirred nothing inside of the knight. He was simply another body.

One that was foolish enough to stand before him.

One that was foolish enough to bar his way to Her.

The blackened knight did not stop his advance even as three of those before him began to speak. It was with a little regret that the fading Scraps of his sanity noted that they could no longer understand human speech.

The knight cared not at all and launched himself at his enemies with a roar.

They barred the way to her.

Thus they must die.

It was simple.

**XXX**

How long had he been here? This city was killing him, or maybe it was the strange ability to create swords. Who knew at this juncture. Still another Portkey had taken him here and he could almost taste Fleur's scent on the wind. She was nearby he knew it. It was just a matter of finding her.

Golden eyes flecked with green closed for a moment. Before opening once more determination renewed. He, he had to save her. Death Eater's wouldn't have taken Fleur without a reason. Whatever they wanted from her it wasn't going to be good not for Fleur and not for anyone else.

Harry cast his mind back, how long had it been since that day in the forest? It had to be months by now. Chasing down Death Eaters in every city. Hunting them down like the vermin they were. He could barely remember the forest anymore. Fleur was there and so was another girl. She stirred feelings of contentment and warmth in his chest. But no matter how hard he tried Harry couldn't remember her face, or her name, or anything else.

That spell he was hit with must have affected his memory.

All the more reason to save Fleur quickly. He couldn't keep doing this forever after all. Another step took him deeper into the bowels of the city. He could taste her power it was driving him ever onwards.

A warehouse?

Why would She?

It didn't matter.

"Charge Sword." The words were almost unnecessary now. The blade it formed was almost unrecognisable. Now it was almost six feet long and flame licked the edges as though it were a lover. It was far to large and heavy to be called a sword. Harry handled it as though it were a toothpick.

There was a perfectly good door.

Harry chose to break down a wall.

The door was probably trapped anyway.

Fleur wasn't there. That was the first thing his eyes told him. Instead there was man. He had seen him before. His name was Anton Dol- Anton Do- An-

Harry couldn't remember his name.

The Death Eater smiled at him and held up a hand. A weapon forming inside it the air itself seeming to twist and spiral in as it was called into existence. It was an elegant sword. Two handed though clearly well balanced enough to be used in only one. It was a work of art meant to be just as at home at the side of a king as on the battlefield. Unlike his own blade that was quite clearly only a weapon of war.

"You know Potter you've cause us a bit of trouble." The Death Eater stated walking forward. Harry didn't bother answering. He just needed the bastard to take a few more steps and he'd be in range of a charge. "That Veela's been well worth it though I mean just look at this thing!" The Death Eater stated the sword whipped out in a clumsy slash that still parted a steel pillar like water. "Does the same to magic you know." Just a few more steps. "Sure seemed to hurt her t-" Harry saw red as gold eyes burned crimson. A roar that didn't belong to a human ripped it's way from his throat and the concrete under his feet shattered as he raced forward.

The Death Eater barely got his blade up before Harry's own crashed into it with all the force of an angry god. The exquisite weapon was forced low and the Death Eater found his left arm missing from the elbow down in short order. His scream of pain was accompanied by a series of wild slashes. Harry leapt back to gain distance.

"Armour." The word was bit out through grit teeth and in response to his call it came. It had once been pristine silver and blue. Now the silver was dulled and the blue was almost black with ash and soot. His blade was struck up toward the ceiling allowing a wave of fire to be unleashed from it's edge. The Death Eater screamed and swung his own sword. The wave of fire parted around it like water breaking over rock.

The Death Eater didn't have long to celebrate. Harry followed behind the wave like the specter of death itself. His sword fell and the man whom he could not remember found his head tumbling to the floor a mere second later.

They had hurt Her.

They Had Hurt Her.

They Had Hurt Her!

THEY HAD HURT HER!

THEY HAD!...wait.

What was Her name again?

**XXX**

The Blackened Knight looked down at the remains of his enemies. They had fought valiantly. But in the end they were not enough. Each bore their own Artificial Seed. Their powers combined were something to behold.

Easily overcome if he was able to fight at full strength. But the necessity of pacing himself for the next battle had meant risking taking more injuries.

The man with wild hair that stirred his memory had fallen first. His upper and lower body separated by Laveteinn like a knife parting silk.

The messy haired man had been enraged by that. It was an emotion the Knight knew well. There was another emotion as well one that he didn't understand.

The woman had gone next. Defending the messy haired man as he felt the emotion the Knight did not understand and took his mind off of the fight. His flames had turned her to ash in short order. He could seem the flames of Wrath ignite in the men at this. The Knight had felt something he didn't understand when killing the woman. But she had foolishly stood between Him and Her thus he had no choice.

They had fought well together but a moment of disunity had made an opening, and he had taken both their heads in a single swing. The Knight waited for his wounds to heal for a moment before walking forward once more.

Leaving the bodies and ashes to cool where they lay.

He could taste her scent once more.

She was here.

She was here.

She was here. 

She Was Here.

She Was Here.

She Was Here.

She Was Here!

She Was Here!

She Was Here!

SHE WAS HERE!

SHE WAS HERE!

SHE WAS HERE!

The Knight stopped his advance as two more people stood before him. He could no longer tell if they were men or women. The people stood one old tall and stern. The other small, yet determined. The Knight lifted his sword once more Laveteinn roared as flame engulfed the blade and the Knight followed as he charged.

He had to kill them.

He had to kill all of them.

Until nothing remained between them.

It was simple really.

**XXX**

Albus Dumbledore looked down in sorrow as he continued to read the report on his desk. Harry had gone missing over a year ago. Sightings had been coming in from all over the place. Different cities, different countries, but one thing always remained constant.

He was hunting Death Eaters.

And he was doing so with a strange sword in hand.

Which was exactly why Dumbledore had to find him. He'd checked Jack Potter the second that he had made the connection to what Harry Potter had in his possession. The Rituals had taken several days and not an inconsiderable amount of time. But they had confirmed his deepest fears.

Jack Potter was in possession of a Seed.

Which meant more than likely that Harry Potter possessed one as well.

They were known to run in families as where you found one Seed you often found another. Almost like they were drawn together. He'd performed the Rituals on Jack before, but never Harry. It wasn't uncommon for Seeds to manifest later in life, and yet Albus couldn't help but wonder. If he had taken the time to check Harry could this all have been avoided.

Seeds were powerful Magical Artifacts that bonded to the Soul of their users. But they were also dangerous beyond measure. A Seed alone was dangerous if controllable thing. But if someone used that power recklessly. If they began to overuse it before they were ready to control it. Then the Seed would begin to eat away at their mind and much more dangerously their Soul.

Memories would began to fray and jumble before being wiped from existence. Leaving the Seed user with only the single driving force they activated the Artifact with to push them forward. Creating a monster that couldn't be reasoned with and more likely than not couldn't be stopped except by other Seed users.

From the reports Harry had been confronted by several already.

He had killed them all.

It was likely that the eldest Potter child had already drank far too deeply from the poisoned well. At least for now he was pointed at Voldemort, but one day he would not be. Albus couldn't help the chill that went down his spine upon thinking of that.

One day soon Harry Potter would need to be stopped.

By any means necessary.

Just like Gellert.

In the old days Seed users that went out of control had many names. Albus wasn't sure exactly what they were called in the East but these days out of control Seed users in the West were called Demon Lords.

Harry was certainly proving that moniker to be an accurate one.

The elderly wizard placed his head in his hands as he considered his next move.

**XXX**

The Knight stepped past the ruined bodies without a backwards glance. He needed to go higher. She was so close now. He knew the difference between the Artificial Seeds that bore her mark and Her. It had taken a long time and until now he wasn't even sure if he'd be able to do it. But it was like night and day now they were close enough.

He had to find Her.

The staircases were annoying. They moved without his input and often went elsewhere than where he wished. Eventually the Knight gave up and simple jumped from one landing to the other in his quest. The halls twisted and turned leading him towards a tower he could see in the corner of the castle. Barely the Knight could hear flames licking the ground floor of the castle. Normal fire wouldn't damage stone. But he couldn't wait too long. His flames were anything but normal.

The Castle would fall soon.

He needed to find Her before then.

Another turn took him to the battlements. A space wide enough for ten men to walk abreast yet waiting for him were only two. He couldn't tell what they were. Only that was one old and powerful. The other was young and significantly more so.

They stood where they should not. Unshouldering his blade the Knight moved forward. The last Scraps of his sanity silent as they were slowly torn apart. The old one spoke. He moved forward. Giving them one last chance to move away. The young one spoke. The Scraps lamented once more their lack of ability to understand speech any longer.

Then there was no more talking. The old one swung his wand down and a torrent of flame roared forth. Flame of that level could no longer harm him. The Knight dropped low as he charged. A spear of pure light ripping through the space where his head used to be. His red eyes took but a second to understand what he had just seen.

A Seed user. Not like the others he had seen. But a real Seed User. Just like the Knight. Strange? What was this emotion that surged a mix of shuddering in his legs and twitching in his arms. In the next second the Knight couldn't remember what had captured the last fragments of his mind. Continuing his charge and meeting the two who chose to stand before him once more.

**XXX**

They had fought with honour. The young one and the old one. But in the end they fell like all the others. The Knight however had not come out unscathed. Missing half of his chest, left arm from the shoulder down. His right was barely still attached by a few strands of sinew and bone that refused to give way. His armour was all but scrap iron. For the first time he could remember his face was exposed to the world red eyes bare for all to see.

The Knight forced his damaged body to move. Dragging his Laveteinn in his remaining arm as he ascended the tower. Each step sent a strange sensation he no longer knew a word for through his body. It was uncomfortable. The door at the towers top was simple dark wood. With clear effort the Knight sheathed the great blade upon his back once more and gently opened the door.

Then he saw Her.

He couldn't remember her face anymore. Nor the sound of her voice. Her smell. The way she moved. Or even Her Name. But just by the scent of power in the air he knew it was Her. The Knight forced his body to move. His joints moving despite their protests. More machine than man. His right eye couldn't see anymore, and he wasn't regenerating.

The final Scrap of sanity left noted that the body had finally hit its absolute limit.

He beheld Her.

She was pale like a corpse and stick thin. Her bones were clearly visible through sallow skin. She had no hair. Eyes were unfocused and unseeing. Some of her teeth were missing and she didn't react to his presence. Only drooling a little through chapped lips.

The insanity that had ruled him was still there but the Scrap of whoever the Knight used to be still forced the body to move. A blackened gauntlet brought up to cup Her face gentlely as he kneeled beside the bed. The Scrap knew he should say something. There was something he needed to say, but it didn't know how to speak anymore.

The Knight did not move again.

Even when the tower began to collapse around them.

**XXX**

"AHH!" Harry James Fleamont Potter sat up in his bed at Beauxbatons. His scream exiting his throat just as his door opened and a familiar face entered. Fleur looked more than a little concerned at his outburst even as she entered Harry's chest still working like a bellows. She looked him over for a second.

"Are you okay?" The words were said kindly not with the usual sass.

"Just." Harry bit out then took a breath. "Just a nightmare." His old friend nodded slowly and sighed.

"It's Sunday you know." She said lightly as Harry fully focused on her. "You've been sleeping for most of today. I'm going into the village later. Would you like to come?" He shook his head again dislodging the unwelcome thoughts that came with those words.

"Yeah sure just give me a bit to get ready." Answering like that was pulling teeth, but Harry really didn't want to stay in his room any longer. That dream had not been a pleasant one. "Antonie coming with us?" He asked standing as Fleur's face twisted in distaste.

"We broke up yesterday." The Veela responded her voice low. Harry felt his blood chill at the words. Anything that reminded him of what he'd seen was not welcome.

"I'm sorry." He answered the response almost automatic.

"It's not your fault that Antonie lacks self confidence and has a few jealousy issues." Fleur replied looking him up and down anxiously. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"No." Harry admitted to his oldest friend. "But I'm not going to get any better lazing around. I'll be down in half an hour."

"Okay then. I'll see you soon." Fleur said slipping out of the room without a sound.

Harry showered and dressed in a daze. Barely able to keep his head on straight. The nightmare had been so real. Horrific and deeply disturbing to the point that he was very concerned about exactly what his subconscious was trying to tell him. But so very real none the less. Heading to the courtyard he almost ignored the people who waved only responding out of pure reflex.

He must still have looked out of it when he reached her because Fleur wouldn't stop sending him concerned glances even as they began walking towards the small Wizarding village of Vanica. The trail was well worn and something Harry had walked hundreds of times by now. But the further they walked the more uncomfortable he became.

"Hey wait!" The words were yelled from behind and without even turning Harry knew who he would find as he turned. Serah raced down the hill towards them pink hair flowing out behind her in the breeze. She was just so vibrant in comparison to how it ended in his dream that Harry's breath caught in his throat.

"I'm heading in too!" The pink haired girl stated as she came to a stop next to them her voice bubbly. At least until she saw that Harry had turned a very concerning shade of white. "Are you okay?" The younger girl asked in a tone of seriousness that Harry rarely associated with her.

"Yes." He managed to force past the lump in his throat as his feet moved almost against his will further down the trial.

"Okay then. You know you could tell us if somethings wrong right?" Serah made her appeal and Harry just nodded. How exactly did you explain that a figment of your imagination had put the fear of God into you without sounding completely bonkers?

"I know." Harry replied almost surprised by how steady his voice was.

"Good." The younger woman stated with a nod. Even as the concerned look on her face remained.

"Morning Fleur." The pink haired girl said returning to her usually bubbly self.

"Good morning to you too Serah." The Veela responded with a grateful smile. They walked further into the forest and Harry felt his heart make a good attempt at escaping through his mouth as he recognised the area. The world seemed to slow down as Fleur and Serah's voices turned to static in his ears. A feeling of wrongness surged from his stomach as everything almost stopped as he heard something push through the undergrowth.

Harry moved before he consciously decided too. His left hand plucking Serah up by her shirt and pulling her behind him. As an orange spell came into the open still moving at a snails pace to his eyes. It was happening again. It was happening again. It was happening- NO! It wasn't going to happen again! He would not allow it! His mouth opened and the Knight who was not a Knight said two words.

"Charge Sword."

And emerald eyes burned gold.

**END**

And so the Demon Lord saved the Princess and killed the Hero.

Just to make it clear Harry was most definitely not the 'Hero' of this story. Well okay he was at the beginning but as his mind fractured more and more he went from Hero to Villain due to his obsession. And slowly but surely also lost everything that made him human until he was quite literally more of a machine.

To recap at the end.

He didn't know his own name.

He didn't know who Fleur's name.

He couldn't speak.

He didn't understand human language.

He couldn't understand emotions anymore.

And most of his memories were gone.

To top it all off the Princess he had been trying to save had her mind broken so thoroughly when Voldemort had her that there was nothing left of her past her body for him to save.

So in the end everyone did everything for nothing.

Well armed with some foreknowledge of what could happen hopefully Harry does better this time around.

Anyway see you some other day.


End file.
